“Rustom. Janu,” she whispered. “I know you are here. Please, darling. There’s no one else at home right now. Come talk to me.”
“What do you think I’ve been doing, woman?” Rustom replied. He was seated on the love seat near the window.
“Oh, Rustom,” she said. “I’m so glad you’re here. There’s so much I want to tell you—so much has happened this past week, you won’t believe.”
“How are the two boys?”
She stared at him openmouthed. “You know?”
“What, you think I don’t read the papers?” He grinned. “Seriously, though, don’t you remember me pushing you off the bloody fence, Tehmi? Saala, if it wasn’t for me, you’d still be dithering on that fence, frozen into a Popsicle by now.”
She laughed. “What do you do, spy on me?”
“Yes. No.”
“Well, I’m glad you do. Makes me feel less lonely, knowing you’re watching me.”
“Yes, well, that’s what I’m wanting to talk to you about. Listen, Tehmi. After today, I won’t be able to…that is, we won’t be able to meet like this. You know, I sometimes regret that I didn’t force you to make more decisions when I was—around. Always, I was doing the thinking for us. And then, the damn heart attack was so sudden—I tried fighting, believe me, I knew what a shock it would be to you, but it was too late to change things. Anyway, all that’s water under the bridge. What’s important is where you go from now on.”
“But, Rustom, I’m not going anywhere.”
“But you are. You must. Life is nothing if not movement. Tehmina, listen to me: get off the fence. Once and for all, get off the bloody fence. Whether you live here or in Bombay, I don’t care. But wherever you decide to live, be happy. Darling, this indecisive dithering and wavering has gone on for too long. It’s time to choose. So choose.”
She was silent, clouds of feeling—shame, hope, confusion, hurt—floating across her face.
“My love,” Rustom said, and his voice had an urgency she’d never heard before. “Why fret about the future if today be sweet? It’s all you have, darling, is today. Shit, now I’m talking in clichés, too.” His voice cracked. “But seriously. You don’t know how lucky you are, Tehmi. I didn’t know it either, until I stopped having my todays. You think I don’t wish I could be with my wife, my family, my grandson, anytime I bloody feel like it?” He suddenly sounded angry. “Tehmi. Don’t try and factor in every possible what-if. The future is none of your damn business. You decide based on what you know today. You. Choose. Today.”
“Rustom,” she cried. “I’m upsetting you. Please, darling, don’t be angry at me. I swear I’ll—”
He laughed and there was raw glass in laughter. “Angry at you? Woman, I’d forgotten how silly you sometimes are. Darling, I’m angry at myself. Don’t you see? I hate seeing you struggle like this. I hate thinking that it was the giving out of my weak heart that has created this dilemma for you. Even this, even these visits to you, are a sign of my weakness, don’t you see? I have no business being here. And once you make up your mind, I will leave and return to where I belong.”
“Leave? Rustom, you’ve left me once. If you ever leave me again, I don’t know if—”
Rustom smiled sadly. “Look at us. Two old, pathetic people. Ah, Tehmi, what is this pale, bloodless meeting, compared to the passion and delight we’ve enjoyed? Why should we settle for these clandestine meetings? You are worthy of so much more, dear. You are alive—take your place among the living.”
How well she knew that tone. Once Rustom made up his mind, nothing could change it. Tehmina closed her eyes and pushed her tears back. She could feel Rustom’s eyes on her. Then she heard him say, “Do you know what my favorite Khayyám verse is?”
She shook her head, her eyes still closed. “Imagine, all these years and I never asked you.”
“It’s the most predictable one, I’m afraid.” He smiled. “But that’s the amazing thing about love, isn’t it? It reduces everything to a cliché.” Rustom’s voice was a feather barely touching her face:
Here with a Loaf of Bread beneath the Bough,
A Flask of Wine, a Book of Verse—and Thou
Beside me singing in the Wilderness—
And Wilderness is Paradise now.
I don’t know how I’m going to get through the rest of my life without this man, she thought.
“Yah, yah, you said that at the funeral, also,” Rustom replied. “And look at you—you’re fine. I always told you—you’re as tough as an ox.”
“Did you just read my mind?” Her voice was equal parts astonishment and indignation.
Rustom crossed the room in the time it took her to blink and kissed her lightly on her forehead. “Darling, I’ve always read your mind. I don’t have to be dead in order to do that.”
Despite the wet puddle of grief inside her, she smiled. She knew he was right. She reached out to take his hand. The doorbell rang. She looked around frantically. “I don’t know who that is. Will you wait for me until—” She realized she was talking to an empty room. And the room wasn’t talking back. Rustom had vanished. “Rustom, listen,” she whispered urgently. “I don’t have to answer the door.” But the room remained still and silent.
She had never hated anyone as much as she hated the caller as she moved heavily to answer the door. If it is Tara at the door, I swear she will leave here holding her head in her hands, she vowed. And if it is the UPS man, well, he better be delivering the Hope Diamond.
Her anger vanished as soon as she opened the door. Eva was leaning against the house, shivering lightly. Tehmina took in the red nose and the teary eyes. Must be the cold, Tehmina thought. But then she was struck by another, scarier thought. Eva had never shown up at her house without calling before. “Eva,” she gasped as she made way for her friend to enter. “Is everything okay? Is Solomon—”
“Fine,” Eva said. “Solomon is fine.”
Eva turned to face Tehmina. “Sorry for barging in like this,” she mumbled. “You know I never show up without calling. But what to do”—her face crumbled—“I just needed the comfort of a friend today.”
Eva crying? Her big, cheerful, brazen friend crying like other lesser mortals? Sure, Tehmina knew Eva was softhearted. But still, she had never seen her friend like this. She was used to Eva’s bawdy jokes, the wattage from her ever-present grin making up for the weak Ohio sunlight. Cancer, Tehmina thought. It had to be cancer. Why hadn’t Eva told her she was going for tests?
“You will be all right, my friend,” she said, trying to embrace Eva and coming up awkwardly against her bulk. She settled for putting her hand on her shoulder. “I will be here, I will help you through it all.”
Eva removed a large, red scarf from her dress pocket and mopped her face. She eyed Tehmina quizzically. “Help me through what, honey?”
Tehmina stared at her openmouthed, unable to say the dreaded word. The two women looked at each other and then Eva said, “I know it’s early in the day, but how about a little wine? You got anything?”
Should she be drinking alcohol if she was sick? Tehmina bit down on her tongue. “Sure. As long as you can open it. I can never get that corkscrew to work.”
Eva followed her into the kitchen. “What’re you reading?” she asked, and Tehmina realized that she was still carrying the Khayyám book with her.
“A book of poems by Omar Khayyám. You know him? My Rustom loved his work,” she said, and it felt strange to talk about Rustom in the past tense when she could still feel his lips on her forehead.
Eva looked sheepish. “I’ve heard of him, I think. Can I borrow it?”
Tehmina’s heart sank. The thought of the book leaving this house, leaving her protective gaze, made her sick. “It was my husband’s book, but it now belongs to Sorab,” she said. “I—I could ask him.”
She felt Eva’s intense blue eyes, at once so innocent and shrewd, on her. “I understand,” she said softly. “In any case, I’m sure the library has a copy.”
>
Eva poured a generous amount of wine into the two water glasses Tehmina had set before her, ignoring Tehmina’s protestations of “enough, enough.”
“Well,” Eva said after taking a deep sip, “here’s to family.”
“To family,” Tehmina echoed.
Eva’s face crumbled again, like a sandy cliff washed by a wave. “Yah, here’s to family. Even when they treat you like shit.” This time, she didn’t even try to hide her tears, letting them stream down her face and into her glass.
So maybe Eva wasn’t sick after all. “What happened, Eva? Did you have a fight with Solomon?”
“Solomon? Heck, he’s the only steady thing in my life, Tehmina. No, it’s my son, David. He and his goy wife called from Florida today. Remember we were to go down to see them on the tenth, like we do every year? Well, turns out they don’t want us to come this year. We were dis-invited, you could say.” Eva’s voice sounded hoarse, as if hurt was stuck like sand in her throat.
“But, Eva, why? What happened?”
“Nothing. Nothing happened. They’re just tired, that’s all. Seems like the holiday season has worn them out and they need time to recover.” Eva rolled her eyes. “Can you imagine, a Jewish boy needing to recover from Christmas? What business did he have getting so exhausted, anyway? That’s what comes from marrying a Christian. Runs my David ragged, from stringing lights on a Christmas tree and drinking eggnog and singing carols and God knows what else.”
Despite herself, Tehmina smiled. “We do all those things, also, Eva,” she said cautiously.
Eva let out a gust of air. “Granted. But you have a son who loves his mother, hon. Who’s not ashamed of her. Who—” Eva choked on her words, her eyes red and bulging. “Who does not see his parents as a burden. Who does not have to recover before he can see his mom and dad.”
“So—does he not want you to visit at all this year?”
“Who knows? Just said they couldn’t do it this month. Said he needed some breathing space. So breathe! As if me and Solomon would be sitting on their windpipe. As it is, we live like thieves in my own son’s house, tiptoeing around the place. Well. Maybe it’s good riddance. Maybe we’ll go to the Caribbean instead, like we’ve always wanted to.” Her eyes glistened. “If only my poor Solomon had not been so hurt by the phone call. He’s so upset, the poor man. Just shook his head when he hung up the phone and went into the bedroom without saying a word. As for me”—she tried to smile, but her chin trembled—“I’m a wreck, as you can see. All I could think to do was get in the car and come to your place.”
“I’m glad you did,” Tehmina said. She wanted to say more, something smooth and consoling, but she was aware of an uncharacteristic embarrassment. It was the embarrassment that the rich and the comfortable feel in the presence of the have-nots. Eva was right. She could never imagine Sorab and Susan treating her in the manner David had treated his parents. Here she was, being wooed and cajoled by her son to stay with him permanently. And she was the one playing hard to get, she was the one keeping them all on edge while she tried to make up her mind. She wished she could tell Eva about Rustom’s lecture of a few minutes ago, urging her to rejoin the living. But that would mean explaining his presence in her living room, and as much as she trusted Eva, she didn’t know if she could trust her to understand that. Her closest friend in America didn’t need to know that her neighbor and card partner was also a loon.
Still, the need to comfort the obviously hurting woman in front of her was great. “Eva,” she said. “Have you had anything to eat today? Are you hungry, dear?”
Eva perked up. “What have you got? Have you started cooking for tonight?”
“Not yet. But there’s plenty of food in the fridge. What would you like?”
In the end, she fixed Eva a masala omelet, with some daal on the side. Tehmina protested this odd mishmash of breakfast and lunch, but Eva was insistent. Watching Eva smack her lips as she ate with obvious relish, Tehmina felt that old, deep satisfaction she did every time she fed somebody. She remembered the first meal that Percy had had at her home after dear Shirin’s death. She had made him his favorite doodhi murumba as a special treat, to whet his appetite. How skinny the boy had been until she got hold of him. Percy the Pencil, the boys in the neighborhood used to tease him. But a year of her cooking had taken care of that. She thought of Josh and Jerome munching on their grilled cheese sandwiches in the same kitchen where Eva now sat, pouring out her hurt and grief in between mouthfuls of food. How ravenous Josh and Jerome had been. Which reminded her, she had to ask Eva about a ride to the mall on Tuesday. Maybe she could take along some Bombay-style chicken sandwiches for the boys. No spices in those, so they should like that.
“Eva, something to ask. Are you free on Tuesday?”
Eva chewed on her food as she thought. “Think so. Whassup?”
“Nothing; that is, I need a ride to the mall. I think I’m going to meet Josh and Jerome there. Antonio’s wife is bringing them there.”
Eva laughed appreciatively. “How’d you pull that off? You’re unstoppable, Tammy, you know that?” She grew serious. “Your son and daughter-in-law know about this? They won’t have a problem?”
“I haven’t told them, yet. I mean, if I’m to consider living here permanently, Eva, I have to make my own decisions, no? After all, they already have a child. They don’t have to treat me like one.”
There was something in Eva’s eyes Tehmina hadn’t seen before. It was respect. “Attagirl, Tammy,” she said softly.
Eva got up and swept the crumbs into her empty plate. She walked in her stockinged feet up to the dishwasher. “That was delish,” she said. “Thank you, sweetheart. Never knew red wine and omelets were so good for a broken heart.”
“Oh, Eva. I think it will be okay with David. Just…when you call him tomorrow, just tell him how disappointed you are. He probably doesn’t even realize.”
“Who said anything about calling him tomorrow?”
Tehmina stared at her. “It will be New Year’s Day. Won’t you call to wish him?”
“Guess he knows our phone number as well as we know his,” Eva mumbled.
“Oh, Eva, this is not like you, at all. David doesn’t stop being your son just because he’s hurt you. Come on, don’t be like this.”
“I don’t know what you mean.” She could tell from the strain in Eva’s voice that it was taking all of her manners to resist the urge to tell her to mind her own business. But then Eva, of all people, should know how bad I am at minding my own business, Tehmina smiled to herself.
“I’ll tell you what I mean,” Tehmina persisted. “What I mean is, Eva, none of us are getting any younger. There’s no time to waste, dear, don’t you see? So who cares whose turn or duty it is to call? I mean, if we were all going to live to be four hundred, then maybe we could afford all this formality. But as it is…” She ran out of words as abruptly as the taps used to run out of water when she was a young girl in Calcutta. “Eva,” she finished. “Call David tomorrow. You must. You’re the mother. You must bear it.”
“Ai, ai, ai. First you are a Christmas angel, now you wanna be a Jewish yenta? Stop with your lectures, already. If I wake up tomorrow and feel like calling the boy, I will. Who knows?” Eva reached out to take Tehmina’s slender hand in her beefy one. “Now, let me help you in the kitchen. What needs done?”
“Oh, you don’t need to help. I can manage, really. Susan is planning on coming home early from work.”
“What, now you’re a Christian martyr? Come on, put me to work. God knows a little bit of exercise won’t hurt me,” Eva said, patting her ample hips.
Glancing at the kitchen clock, Tehmina was surprised at how late in the day it was. “Is this possible that it’s already noon?” she cried. “My God, Eva, now I really do need your help. I swear, this wine made me lose all track of time. Will you help me peel some onions and chop some cilantro?” She rose, but Eva gripped her wrist and forced her to sit back down. As always, Tehmina was s
urprised by how strong Eva was.
“Wait. We’ve forgotten the most important part.”
“What?”
“Dessert.” Eva grinned. “Whacha gonna feed me for dessert?”
She had made three hundred cocktail-size kebabs and they were almost all gone. Percy was popping one in his mouth right now. “Ah, Mamma,” he said to her. “What good memories these kebabs bring back. You remember the Sunday lunch you used to make? God, I can still recite the menu by heart—chicken dhansak, kebabs, kachuber. And of course—Rustom uncle used to always pick up two bags of potato wafers from Royal Café.”
Tehmina smiled. “Rustom always wanted something crunchy with his food.”
“I remember the first time I ate at your house on a Sunday. There was Rustom uncle—this important, successful businessman who I was always a little afraid of, you know? And there he is, munching wafers like a schoolboy. I liked him from that moment.”
“He was very fond of you, too. I think the day you graduated from law school was one of the proudest days of his life.”
“God bless him.” Percy sighed. “Everything that I am and have today, I owe to him—to both of you.” Knowing that the loans and scholarships that he had were not enough, Rustom had given Percy $3,000 to help with his first year in America and Percy always claimed that the money was the difference between being able to afford going to law school in America and staying in India. “If not for your generosity, I’d still be in India, killing flies for a living.”
“Everything you’ve achieved you’ve achieved on your own, beta,” Tehmina said. “We were just glad to be able to help you fulfill your destiny, that’s all.”
“And now it’s my turn to help you fulfill yours,” Percy said immediately.
Tehmina laughed. “Such a lawyer you’ve become. How do you manage to turn every conversation around like this?”
Before Percy could reply, Tehmina found herself engulfed in a warm, tight hug by a pair of arms that held her from behind. “Hello, friend,” Eva’s voice boomed in her ear. “Long time no see. Hope some of those lamb kebabs are still left. I’ve been singing their praises to Sol ever since I left your home earlier today.”
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